Glimpses of a Brave New World
by Unique
Summary: 2032 never satisfactorily addressed just what it would be like for the crew to come back from Hyperion like that. Glimpses is a series of individual short stories exploring the complications and struggles that would arise from instantly missing ten years.
1. Life's Work

Notes: Glimpses is a series of short pieces exploring the complications and struggles that would arise from instantly missing ten years. 2032 never satisfactorily addressed just what it would be like for the crew to come back from Hyperion like that. The stories are not directly related in that they do not build upon each other and can be read in any order but they do belong to the same SeaQuest universe.

Currently there are five stories in the series.

Glimpses of a Brave New World:

Life's Work

Lucas gaped at the vocorder in disbelief. They'd changed it; updated it along with the rest of the boat. There was an updated version of the vocorder that he, Lucas, had had nothing to do with building.  That reached him more than anything else he'd seen so far in this crazy messed up world. It didn't matter that they were at war or that he'd been held prisoner. All of those horrible statistics and news stories they'd been flashing at him since he walked into that board room could have been made up. It could have all been a horrible prank. But this couldn't be denied. Someone had taken his design and his research and continued his project without him. It was all true. He really had missed out on ten years of his life.

His mind whimpered softly. Ten years. So much would have changed. He couldn't begin to contemplate the enormity of what this meant for him. He didn't dare try. Lucas wrapped himself in his arms, hugging himself tightly. He closed his eyes blocking out the horrifying sight of the vocorder. An hour ago he would have still said that it was his proudest accomplishment. Now it mocked him. He didn't want to see it anymore. Ten years, it said. Ten years.

"I couldn't believe they bothered either."

Lucas whirled to face the intruder. His mouth moved but no sound would come out.

"The silly things caught on for a brief time about five years ago but there weren't many boats equipped to carry dolphins." The speaker's nose wrinkled. "The navy's no place for marine life." A shrug. "Now you just find a few at aquariums and research facilities. Not that there are many dolphins left. I can't imagine why they thought this one needed to be upgraded."

"I-" Lucas glanced to the vocorder and back. "I-" He swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. Excuse me."

He hurried from the room. He needed to escape. He had to put some space between him and the moonpool, the vocorder, his crumbling dreams. Lucas stopped taking a shuddering breath. He needed a computer. He had to know if it was true. Had it all really been for nothing?

In a daze, Lucas found himself seated at his computer trying to pull up SeaQuest's databases. There was supposed to be open access to all the general files. Lucas frowned. There was open access to the general files from ten years ago but nothing more recent. He leaned forward beginning to break down the layers of encryption. Someone didn't want them to have access to the data from the past ten years. Conspiracy theories flitted across his mind but he pushed them aside with annoyance.

It shouldn't be this hard to break through the encryption he realized with a fluttering in his stomach. Sweat broke out on his brow from the effort of staying focused on his task. He pushed his distant panic down, locking it away. He didn't have time to deal with it or its cause. He broke through with a sigh of relief. See, that wasn't so hard. Only because you wrote most of SeaQuest's computer systems, whispered the doubt that Lucas refused to hear.

He pulled up the directory opening a dozen or so files for his perusal. The first article was about him and the invention of the vocorder. His smiling picture stared at him from the page, looking frightfully young. Lucas felt old. Even though the picture had only been taken a few months after he joined SeaQuest, he had a hard time imagining himself that young and innocent. At the bottom of the page was a small thumbnail of the man who had continued the research. The man reminded him of Bridger somehow and that made him feel a little better about him taking over the project.

The other articles on the vocorder were discouraging. Most of the authors seemed more focused on how the vocorder worked or its vanished inventor than what the vocorder did.  Society hadn't blinked at all at the announcement that interspecies communication had been achieved. A few research facilities had been excited but they didn't seem to have produced much in the way of results. From what he could see none of the enthusiasm remained.  It was horribly, numbingly true; the world really had forgotten about the vocorder as a passing fad.

Lucas pulled his knees up against his chest and rested his chin on his knees as he read further; this time focusing on the dolphin populations. Dolphins had been on the endangered species list for longer than Lucas had been alive. It had been one of the main reasons he had gotten into the vocorder project. He'd hated the idea of a world without the graceful, mysterious creatures. Naively, he'd thought the vocorder would make a difference but the dolphins were in more danger of extinction than ever. According to these papers, only a quarter of the world's dolphins lived in the wild.

Lucas closed his eyes as a few hot tired tears trickled down his cheeks. It was all useless. None of his research mattered. No one cared that they could sit down and hold a conversation with a dolphin.  No one cared that they were killing sentient beings just so they could have a tuna sandwich or another stupid mining facility. Lucas pressed his face into his knees drawing long shuddering breaths. He'd failed. It was all for nothing.

A gentle tap at the glass broke the silence. Lucas looked up. Darwin floated at the glass watching him, and then butted his nose up against the glass again.

Darwin.

Lucas stood, moving to place his hand up against the glass. Darwin nudged at it. Lucas smiled tentatively.

"Hi," he whispered. Darwin gazed back at him, friendship shining in his eyes. Sometimes words weren't necessary for communication. The smile grew stronger.

It wasn't for nothing. It didn't matter what they did or didn't do with his invention. The vocorder gave him his friendship with Darwin. Nothing the scientific community did could take that away.  Lucas leaned his forehead against the cool glass, luxuriated in the comfort of not being alone. Darwin was his friend; his vocorder mattered.


	2. Customer Service

Glimpses of a Brave New World:

Customer Service

"Can I help you?" asked the bored female voice at the other end of the line.

"Yes, I'd like to activate my internex account."

"One moment, please. I'll transfer you." The techno Mozart blared out of the speakers again before mercifully being interrupted. "This is Sally. How can I help you?"

"I'd like to activate my internex account," he repeated.

"Can I get your name?"

"Nathan Bridger."

"N-A-T-H-A-N B-R-I-D-G-E-R?"

"Yes. That's correct." He drummed his fingers on the table, impatiently. Beside him, Michael was messily munching on the remains of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"And can I have your address, sir?"

Nathan sighed and reeled off the location of his island.

"Sir, I'm showing that there is already an account established for that location."

"Yes, I know. I'm trying to reactivate it."

"I'm sorry, sir, but the account is in the name of a Robert Bridger. I can't activate it for you."

"Robert is my son. This was my house and my account originally."

"I'm sorry, sir. If you could have Mr. Bridger call us, we'd be happy to reactivate the account for him."

"I can't do that. He's missing."

"I'm sorry, sir, but regulations-"

"Look," interrupted Nathan. "Can I just get another account set up for this address?"

"I'm sorry, sir. Only one account is allowed per household. If your son closes his account, we'll be happy to open a new on in your name."

"But-" Nathan shook his head. This was getting him nowhere. "Never mind. Thank you for your time."

"Lunch?" asked Michael, offering him the last bite of his sandwich.

"No, you eat it." Nathan looked around his kitchen. That did remind him. They needed to get some groceries before they ran out of food. The supplies the UEO had given him were almost gone. He went to the sink and picked up the dish rag using it to wipe up the majority of Michael's mess. "Come on, let's go to the store."

"Yay! Can I get a toy?" Michael ran to get Nathan's keys.

"No, you don't need another toy this week." He reached down to snatch his keys. "And give me those. You're too young to drive."

Michael giggled.

"Silly, Grandpa." He let Nathan pick him up and secure him in his safety belt.

Too soon, they were pulling into the parking lot of the grocery store. The whole grocery shopping routine was comfortingly familiar and painfully the same. The stores all still looked the same and he still recognized most of the products. But the day-time women were the same too; crazed house wives jockeying with each other to get the best sales. All of them staring at him; judging him. They all knew he was too old to be raising a child as young as Michael.

"Do you want oatmeal this week?" he asked Michael putting a box in the cart.

"Yuck. I hate oatmeal!"

Nathan sighed and put the box of oatmeal back. Cheerios again. He laboriously made his way down the aisle. It was hard work negotiating with a five year old. He wasn't going to let Michael eat all junk food but he wanted the boy to get some foods that he liked. Finally, they were standing at the cash register.

"The total comes to $54.87," said the cashier.

He pulled out his card and swiped it through the machine. A few seconds later it beeped. Card denied.

"Here. Let me try it," offered the cashier. She swiped the card again. Card denied. "I'm sorry. Your card's expired." She looked at the card closer. "It expired, um, nine years ago."

Great. Nathan sighed and pulled out his wallet. He carefully counted his few remaining bills.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm going to have to put some of this stuff back."

A flash of annoyance flickered across the cashier's face as she glanced at the groceries already sitting bagged and ready in his cart.

"I really am sorry. I wasn't planning to pay in cash so I only have $48."

"Oh," she replied, her face brightening. "That's not so bad. I'll just give you an employee discount and chip in the difference."

"No, you don't have to do that."

"It's better than having to go through all of the trouble of taking the items off your bill," she said with a shrug.

"Thank you, then. I'll pay you back." He handed her the money. She swiped her discount card then added a couple more dollars to the register. She handed him the receipt. "Thank you again. Come on, Michael."

"Can I have a cookie?" asked Michael after all of the groceries had been put up.

"Not right now. It's time for your nap."

"I can sleep with a cookie."

"After your nap," promised Nathan. "Now, go on. I'm going to be in the study. I have to call the bank."

"OK," mumbled Michael, pouting. He turned around and ran off in the direction of his room. Nathan sighed as he went into his office and shut the door. This was not turning out to be a very good day. Reluctantly, he dialed the number for his bank.

"United Banking, how can I help you?"

"Hi, I'm calling to request a new account card."

"One moment, please. I'm transferring you to customer service." A slow jazz song buzzed loudly in his ear. Well, at least they had better elevator music. "Hi, this is Jamie. How can I help you?"

"I need a new account card. My old one is expired."

"OK, can I get your account number?" He read off the digits. "And your name?"

"Nathan Bridger."

"I'm sorry, sir. That's not the name we're showing on the account."

"Let me guess. It says Robert Bridger." He rubbed his forehead. Not again!

"I can't give out that information."

"My name is Nathan Bridger. I am Robert Bridger's father. This account was originally in my name." He heard clicking on the other end of the line.

"Yes, I'm showing that the account was originally under a Nathan Bridger but he is deceased."

"Well, it turns out the rumors of my death were greatly exaggerated."

"I don't understand, sir."

"I'm not dead. It was a mistake. Is there any way I can get the account place back in my name?"

"If the current owner of the account was to sign for the transfer, we could change the name on the account."

"Robert's missing."

"I see." The poor girl sounded hopelessly confused. "Is there any way of proving that you're alive?"

"How many dead men do you know that use telephones?"

"Let me get my manager." The line went silent followed by more jazz. "Mr. Bridger, what seems to be the problem?"

"My son came back from the dead and all of my accounts were signed over to him because I was dead but now he's missing and I'm not dead and I need access to my accounts."

Stunned silence.

"OK," said the manager finally. "I think we can work with this. We'll need a copy of the report stating that you are Mr. Bridger and that you're not dead. We'll also need the other Mr. Bridger's signature."

"I can't get his signature. He's missing. Look, it's my money! It's not his money. Can't you just put it back in my name and give me another account card that works?"

"Um, no, I'm sorry but we can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Sir, we have certain regulations that we are required by law to follow."

"Forget it," said Nathan, not wanting to hear anymore. "I'll let my lawyer handle this."

He closed the link and sat for a moment with his head in his hands. What a mess. He should call someone at the UEO and see what they could do to straighten out this nightmare. Nathan let his eyes close. Not right now. He couldn't deal with any more bureaucracy right now. Besides, he needed to check on Michael. He pushed himself up from the desk.

Opening the door, he froze in astonishment. Every pillow and blanket in the house was pilled up in the middle of the hall. Buried somewhere near the center of the mound was Michael. Nathan couldn't do anything but blink at the spectacle.

"Michael Bridger, just what do you think you're doing?" he began angrily.

"Grandpa?" Michael sat up and looked at him sleepily. Nathan sighed as his anger drained away.

"Just move over, runt," he said, sitting gingerly down on the pile of blankets. "Grandpa needs a nap, too."


	3. So This Is How Atari Felt

Glimpses of a Brave New World:

So This Is How Atari Felt

"Lucas!" He slowed allowing Tim to catch up with him. "I haven't gotten a chance to talk to you in a while.

"I've been busy," Lucas shrugged.

"I can see that," said Tim, taking in the uniform and greased back hair.

"What? You don't like my new look?" he asked bitterly.

"No, it's just," Tim paused looking over the uniform again. "It's not you, Lucas. Why would you go and do something like this?"

"What else was I supposed to do, Tim?" He sighed and moved to lean against the wall. "Was I supposed to follow Bridger? Go live on the streets? Beg Hudson to let me stay out of the goodness of his heart?"

"You're a scientist not a soldier!"

"I got what I wanted. I'm a member of SeaQuest and I was lucky to get even this."

"You can't mean that. What about all of your degrees? You could have a job anywhere."

"Yeah right," snorted Lucas. "I'm too out of date for anything like that. My degrees are barely worth the paper they were printed on now."

"So you're a little behind. We all are. You'll catch up."

"A little behind?!" exploded Lucas. "Do you have any idea how fast hardware and software can change? You can build a machine and it will be completely obsolete in six months. Six months! And I've missed ten years! Do you have any idea what that's like?"

He realized that he was shouting and stopped abruptly. He ignored Tim's white-faced stammering as he pushed himself off of the wall. He shoved his shaking hands into his pockets and stomped down the hall. He couldn't keep doing this. He had to keep everything together. You have to calm down, he told himself. He even succeeded to a degree until he reached the haven of his room then it all came boiling over again.

His computer stared at him reproachfully reminding him of just how far he had fallen.  Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the computer screen and the warning messages that had just kept popping up. First he'd been unable to make it through the first layer of security then he'd been helpless to stop the trace. It was still hard to believe that only his emergency ditch had prevented the authorities from finding his computer.

The knowledge of his failure ached within him; a deep physical, visceral pain. His dreams swam with it. A child could have made that hack but he he'd failed. He couldn't continue to deny reality. He wasn't a hacker anymore. The programming world had left him behind.  Only on SeaQuest did any semblance of his skill remain but that was just a mirage.

"How could you?" he shouted at his computer, as his helpless rage rekindled. What had he done to deserve this? It wasn't fair!  In his madness, he grabbed the sides of the machine, shaking it. "You betrayed me!" he screamed, thrusting it away from him. The computer launched through the air and collided against the far wall with a sickening crunch.

"No," whispered Lucas, anguished. What had he done? He fell to his knees in horror. Blindly he crawled across the room. He pulled his computer against him, cuddling it in his arms.

"I didn't mean to do it," he cried, weeping. "I didn't mean it." He rocked gently as he hugged the precious computer. It was still in one piece. Oh, thank you, it wasn't destroyed.

In his distress, it never occurred to him that this was just the latest in the long line of computers or that it would have been reasonably easy to replace. To him, it was the embodiment of his computer skills, the last link to his previous life. Computers were the one constant in his life.  They were his solace against the world; a source of friendship and confidence. The world saw him as the boy genius but to himself, Lucas was always a hacker first. He'd been the best but now he was nothing. Lucas the hacker was gone in the blink of a ten year nap. What was left when you took away the computers? Who was he now?

"Here." Lucas looked up into Tim's worried face. A warm, damp cloth was pressed into his hand. He covered his face with it and exhaled the last of his tears. When he removed the cloth a moment later, he had regained his composure. He waved away Tim's help and rose slowly to his feet. The computer was placed gently on the table where it belonged.

"Thanks," said Lucas quietly, unable to look directly at Tim.

"I brought you some hot cocoa," said Tim holding out a mug. Lucas took it with a grateful smile. He wrapped his fingers around the warmth and perched on his bed. For a moment, they both sipped at their beverages in silence. "You were right," began Tim hesitantly.

"What?"

"I have no idea what it's like for you. I'm having to learn new things about communications but it hasn't changed that much and linguistics doesn't change."

"Oh." Lucas looked at the floor, uncomfortable.

"I know it must be rough but you'll get it back. You'll be able to catch up."

"No, I won't. By the time I get back to the point where computers are now they'll be light years ahead of me again."

"Lucas," said Tim seriously. "Don't sell yourself short. You will be able to recover the ground you've lost. I know you can do it."

"It's not just that," admitted Lucas with a soft sigh. "I'm almost as behind in all of my other fields. My research is obsolete. My father's missing. I've lost everything."

"You still have us. We're still here." Lucas didn't say anything. He trailed aimless patterns along his thigh. "You don't have to be alone in this. Let us help you. We're reeling, too."

"Thank you for the cocoa, Tim," said Lucas tiredly. "I'm just really exhausted right now and I'd rather go to sleep."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"All right. Just remember that I'm here for you." Tim gave Lucas one last worried glance then left him alone in the dark. Lucas rolled over and closed his eyes. Maybe he wouldn't dream. 

Notes: Since Lucas was shown hacking into systems several times during the third season, it is clear that the situation isn't quite as bleak as it seems to Lucas. He would be horribly behind but there were several things working in his favor: his genius would allow him to pick up the new techniques rapidly, he has intimate knowledge of SeaQuest's computer system plus any other computer system based off of SeaQuest's designs, and after ten years many of his tricks are obsolete enough that systems may no longer be guarding against them. He wouldn't be at his former level though and that would be a devastating blow to his confidence and self-image.


	4. Anticipation

Glimpses of a Brave New World:

Anticipation

Lonnie hummed to her self as she made her way into the mess hall for lunch. It had been a horrible morning.  The eggs at breakfast had been on an undercover mission trying to pass as soup. She'd stepped on a marble (A marble! What is a marble doing laying on the floor on a submarine?) on the way to the bridge and twisted her ankle. So now her foot hurt and she was going to have to forfeit an hour of shore leave for being late. This new Captain was turning out to be something of a hard ass. But that was OK because it was Thursday and nothing could ruin her days on Thursdays.

"Yuck. Yet another unappetizing meal," said Jim ahead of her.

"I don't know," she said studying the day's offerings. "It looks like this might be a good day. I can identify three out of the five vegetables and the meat looks like it might actually be meat."

"If you say so." He began plopping items on his tray. "You'd think they would have used some of the last ten years trying to improve this stuff."

It was strange to hear Jim say that. They'd been back such a short time and all of it had been spent on SeaQuest. She kept forgetting that any time had passed at all.

"Bad food is a time honored military tradition," said Tim from his place in line behind Lonnie. Do you think King Richard the Lionhearted knew what he was eating all those years on Crusades? And I'm sure Julius Caesar's men did plenty of grumbling about their diet as they were furthering Rome's conquests."

"I get the point," interjected Lonnie before he could get on a roll. It was hard to pay attention to Tim when he started talking about historical, scholarly type things. She took her plate and limped – analgesic gait – across the room to where her friend, Anne, was sitting.  She liked knowing eclectic little facts like the technical term for limping in spite of, or perhaps because of, the way everyone seemed to view her as nothing more than a semi-competent airhead.

Lunch, it turned out, was almost edible so most of the meal passed in silence. That was how things worked. If the food was good, everyone was too busy eating it to spend much time in conversation. When the food was bad, talking was a convenient excuse to not put the food in your mouth. And that explains why the mess hall is always so noisy, she thought to herself.

"You want to join me and Sally after dinner?" asked Anne as she stood to leave. "We're going to find a movie to watch."

"I can't." She squirmed in her seat with anticipation. "I have plans for tonight," she said with a grin. "But next time I promise I'll join you."

Soon lunch was over and she had to return to the bridge. She could barely pay attention to her work; she was looking forward to tonight so much. Her mind kept jumping to images of Joaquin standing desolate in the rain. Tony Vincent was just too sexy for words. And Lucien… Le Sigh.

Her daydreams weren't very productive from a work stand point but they were great for making the afternoon pass faster. Before she knew it, she was polishing away the last remains of her dinner and on the way to the lounge.  After appropriating a remote and a television where she'd have privacy, she settled down on one of the couches to wait. She was so excited she almost squealed. Almost. She still remembered the last time she'd squealed. Men were so evil.

With a sigh of contentment, she finally turned on the TV and tuned it to the channel. It was time. She leaned forward in her seat eager for the commercials to end and the opening scenes to appear. But when the commercials ended, some show that was already in progress appeared.

Hmm. There must have been a delay somewhere. It will be on soon, she thought.

So she waited. And waited. The cold feeling of anxiety grew within her with each passing second.

"Where's it at?" she asked as she began frantically flipping through the channels.

"What's wrong, Lonnie?" asked Jonathan from where him and Jim were sitting.

"What did they do with it?!" she asked, her voice rising in volume.

"With what?" Jonathan got up and came over to her.

"Forever Darkness!"

He looked at her blankly.

"My TV show!" she exclaimed flinging her hands in the air. "You know, vampires, evil curses. Joaquin. Lucien. Diega." She ticked them off on her fingers.

Jonathan stared at her as though she'd grown horns.

"Henderson," he said, gently. "We were gone for ten years. I don't think your television show is going to be on the air anymore."

"No!" she wailed. "But it was a cliffhanger! How am I supposed to know what happened?"

"I'm sure you can find the episodes on the internex to download."

"But that's not the same," she said as her lip jutted out.

"You can buy the box sets the next time you're on shore leave," he said, trying again.

"I guess," she said. He patted her on the shoulder then went back to the ball, hoopy, sport thing he'd been watching with the guys. She pulled her feet up on the couch and stared at the TV dejectedly. Now she had nothing to watch. She'd never have guessed that missing ten years of her life would mess so many things up. Wait. If she missed all of Forever Darkness that would also mean…

"Waah!" she wailed again, balling her hands into fists. "It's not fair! I can't be ten years behind on my soaps. I'll never catch up!"

This really was a horrible day.


	5. Corinthians

Glimpses of a Brave New World:

Corinthians

"Hey, Luke, are you in there?" Tony poked his head through the hatch to Lucas's room. It was empty. He pushed the door open and walked in anyway. Now what? He'd been expecting Lucas to be here. Tony took the chance to look around the room and see what changes Lucas had made. It didn't really look that different. He leaned over the desk counting the candy wrappers. Nope, same old Lucas.

The monitor of Lucas's computer activated with a buzz as Tony accidentally jostled the mouse. He glanced at the screen then had to sit down. The page was open to some article and the picture on the front was of a guy Tony had roomed with in prison. He plopped down in Lucas's chair and leaned in for a closer look. What is Lucas doing with something like that?

"What are you doing?" demanded Lucas, entering his room. Tony jumped up.

"I was just looking for you. I thought maybe we could eat lunch or something," said Tony, hurriedly with a guilty look at the computer.

"What were you doing on my computer?"

"I'm sorry," said Tony not wanting any more trouble. "I just saw the picture and I used to know the guy so-" he trailed off at a loss for what to say. He straightened suddenly and met Lucas's eyes. "Luke, what is that? Does it have something to do with me?"

Lucas nodded slowly. This time he was the one to look away. Tony wondered what Lucas could be keeping from him this time. He shoved his hands in his pockets and forced himself to be patient. This was the new Lucas. He had to go careful or he wouldn't get any answers.

"Things have changed while we were gone, Tony."

"That's for sure. This definitely ain't Kansas anymore, Toto." Lucas flushed and glared at him. Belatedly, he remembered that he'd been trying not to rile Lucas any.

"Be serious!" Lucas ran a hand through his hair. "The laws are different now. Some of the things that were legal before we left aren't legal any more."

"Like me?" he guessed, remembering that Ed had been one of the experiments with him. "You mean my gills are illegal now."

"Yeah. Actually, it's probably good that you missed out on the last ten years."

"The hell it was!" How could Lucas, of all people, say something like that?

"You don't understand," said Lucas flatly. Tony swallowed his protests and waited for Lucas to continue. The expression on Lucas's face made him want to shudder. What could possibly be worse than where they'd been? "They didn't just make it illegal for someone to genetically alter a human being or to modify the human body using genetically altered tissue. They made the law retroactive and all of the people who were already modified were arrested."

"They would have locked me up for something they did to me in prison? What kind of system is that?" Tony was pissed. Lucas waved a hand to cut him off.

"A system at the mercy of a scared public. Most people didn't know about the experiments like yours.  Even the Daggers weren't common knowledge. So when it all became common knowledge the year after we left, people were outraged and terrified." Lucas shrugged. "It was a wonderful example of everything that's wrong with humanity. The politicians wanted to pacify the public and couldn't pass the laws fast enough. You would have found yourself without any rights locked in the nearest prison."

"Am I going to be arrested?" he asked horrified. Lucas shook his head.

"No, they reversed those laws a few years later and let all of them out of prison. The religions didn't take too well to the idea of modified people, though. They think you're an abomination against their god or some such nonsense." Lucas looked disgusted. "They don't even think you're humans." Tony felt nauseous. He traced a hand across the gills.

"What are they going to do to me?" he asked looking at Lucas. For a moment Lucas looked scared.

"If they knew about you they'd kill you," he said quietly. "That's what they did to the other experiments. The ones that made it out of prison were walking targets. There wasn't any shortage of extremists willing to commit murder in order to purify the human race. They eventually had to relocate everyone in witness protection programs or something like that."

"So I'm a target," he said numbly. He glanced around the room wondering if he'd ever be able to leave SeaQuest again.

"No. They don't know about you. The only way they'd know would be to look in your file."

He felt a rush of relief.

"You can fix it so they can't find out, right? You know, erase it from my file or something."

"I can't do that," said Lucas with a frustrated sigh.

"Why not? You're Mr. Hacker extraordinaire." Lucas shifted uncomfortably.

"Look, Tony, it doesn't even matter. Our files are classified in every way imaginable. We're lucky we're cleared to have our birthdates on our ID's."

"That's just because-"

"OK," said Lucas raising his hands in surrender. "Bad example. The point is no one is going to know that you have gills. They can't tell by looking at you and no one in the government is going to release that information. You're as safe as you possibly can be."

"That's easy for you to say."

"It's the truth! Even if I could erase your file, it wouldn't make you any safer. The only people that could hurt you already know: the fellow inmates, your doctors, former friends."

"I see what you're saying," said Tony finally. He didn't like the idea of there being people out there ready to lynch him because he had gills. At least he didn't have to worry about the imprisonment. He shuddered at the remembrance of how it felt to wake up every day behind bars knowing you had no freedom at all. He couldn't go through that again. He glanced down at Lucas's cluttered desk and caught a glimpse of a photo of him, Lucas and Dagwood. "What about Dagwood?" he asked.

"He's a target, too," admitted Lucas reluctantly.

"How did they protect the other Daggers? That witness protection stuff wouldn't help them much."

"They're not exactly pushovers, Tony.  I'm sure some of the Daggers have been killed but as long as the general public doesn't have to deal with them, they seem content to turn a blind eye." Lucas shrugged. "Apparently, the idea that your neighbor might have been genetically tampered with and you'd never know it is more offensive than the Daggers who can't hide their differences."

"Does he know about any of this?" Lucas shook his head.

"I didn't know how to tell him."

"I'll do it," he volunteered surprising himself.

"Thanks, Tony." He shrugged.

"I'm a freak. He's a freak. It's poetic or something if I tell him."

"I think, on SeaQuest, we're all freaks," said Lucas with a humorless laugh.

"That could be. So has anyone decided that SeaQuest is offensive?"

"I wouldn't know. In case you haven't noticed, they're keeping us kind of isolated from current news." Lucas glanced over at the clock. He swore softly. "I've got to go. I'm on duty in a few minutes."

"That's OK. I was just going to go eat."

"You going to be all right?" asked Lucas with a quick glance at the door. Tony stifled a sigh. A month ago Lucas wouldn't have cared whether he was going to be late or not.

"Yeah," he said, letting Lucas off the hook. "It's not like nothing's really changed."

Lucas smiled gratefully and hurried out of the room. Tony stared at the door a moment, feeling very tired all of a sudden. He turned back to look at the picture on the screen again. He wondered if Ed was still alive. Probably not. He reached out and closed the article. One more wall between me and the past, he thought with a sigh as he stepped out of Lucas's room.

"Don't do that," said Lonnie as she passed him in the hall.

"What?" he asked bewildered.

"You sighed. We all do way too much sighing now."

He opened his mouth, ready to protest. She had no idea what he'd just learned. Nobody wanted to kill her. Then he remembered Lucas saying that he'd been lucky. It was true, he realized with surprised. "Yeah, you're right," he found himself saying. "I'll try to sigh a little less."

A smile spread across Lonnie's face. "I'm heading to the mess. Would you join me?" she asked pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. He smiled back.

"I'd like that."


	6. Tursiops Truncatus

Glimpses of a Brave New World:

Tursiops truncatus

Darwin swam silently through the hydro pressure tubes. Patrolling his home was a common past time but lately it was different. SeaQuest didn't seem very much like a home anymore.

Truth was, Darwin was lonely. There was no one here to talk to anymore. Everyone was too busy doing what the new pod leader said. They didn't have time for Darwin now.

Sometimes he wondered why he stayed. It wasn't like he was particularly wanted. The last time he went to the bridge to watch they'd gone so far as to seal his pool on him.  One day they'd even forgotten to let him out to feed. And the pod leader called him a fish. A fish!

He didn't have to stand for those kinds of insults. He was a fine looking dolphin. There were plenty of females out there who would want to mate with him. Why just last month the three year old at the glass ocean had offered to have his offspring. Darwin had plenty of prospects.  He could even go back and live with Bridger and help him raise another young. He could leave this boat at any time.

But he wouldn't. They may not want him here but they needed him here. They were still his pod. Lucas was still his young. SeaQuest was where he belonged. SeaQuest was where they all belonged.

Still, he thought, surfacing in the vacant moonpool, it would be nice to have some company. He blew water from his blowhole dejectedly.

"Hello? Is there anybody out there?" he asked.

"Play," said the vocorder.  He slapped his tail on the water indignantly, drenching the stupid device.

He decided to head towards the bridge to check on his friends. That's where they usually were now. He hovered silently below the surface listening to them. The pod leader was yelling again.  Darwin grinned and took off speeding through the boat. He flashed around the curve, coasted down the incline, leapt for a quick gulp of air at the moonpool, and then he was back. Yes! He'd completed the whole circuit and Hudson was still yelling.

Elated, Darwin decided to go outside. Maybe he could catch some fish that didn't have that gross aftertaste that most things seemed to have now. He didn't like how this ocean had turned all nasty while they'd been away in that other ocean. Come to think of it; he really didn't feel much like hunting. But, and he perked up, he could see if there were any schools of fish to terrorize. There was nothing like playing tag with a bunch of tuna. Of course, SeaQuest was probably too deep for something like tuna but it could still be fun. Yes, that sounded like a good plan. Pleased with himself, Darwin headed out into the ocean to play.


	7. Prayers for the Dead

Glimpses of a Brave New World:

Prayers for the Dead

Tim shut the door to his room and secured it. With slow measured steps, he crossed the floor towards the CD player. He touched play and the familiar chords filled the air. It was Miguel's favorite. Tim could almost see Miguel listening to it now: lying on his bed with a magazine on his chest and his head bobbing to the beat. Briefly, Tim closed his eyes reliving the past. The song changed and Tim opened his eyes to his empty room.

Silently, he sat down at the desk. First he cleared it off then he placed the first sheet of paper down. He relaxed into the ritual as he folded and manipulated the paper. It bent beneath his nimble fingers, shaping as he directed. Fold. Press. Fold. Press. He set the finished flower aside and began on the next sheet. The music dwindled down into silence as Tim made his final fold. He touched the paper flowers gently, wishing for real ones. Once the hydroponics lab housed hundreds of them but that was a long time ago. They weren't appropriate vegetation for a military vessel.

He left the origami on the table as he checked the door again. No one could see this part. He opened the second drawer in his dresser and pulled out a lock box. The key was retrieved from its slot under his bed. The box creaked as it opened. He lifted out the obsidian jar that had belonged to his grandmother. It rattled as he twisted the lid free, shaking out the candle and matches hidden inside it. Flammables were contraband. Fire was too deadly to risk on a submarine. He slipped them into his pocket. He'd be in trouble if they caught him but it was worth the risk.

Cradling the flowers protectively in his hand, he opened his door. The corridor felt unnaturally silent but he knew the effect was in his mind. His free hand drifted down into his pocket to curl around the candle. Down he went through the decks until he reached E Deck. Once this was unfamiliar territory but now he could make his way blind-folded. They'd had to choose a place that was out of the way to keep the Captain from finding it. He reached his destination and pushed open the door. To his relief, it was vacant. The room was supposed to be for storage but they'd moved everything. He locked the door behind him ensuring his privacy.

"Sorry I couldn't come yesterday but I'm here now," he said, as he sat down in the center of the room.  He looked at the flowers resting in his hand. In his peripheral vision, the walls were a chaotic collage of color. Photos, notes, cards, and mementos covered every speck of space on either side. Only the wall he was facing had any room left.

"We've-" He swallowed hard and tried to continue. "We've been really busy with the war. It's so different. I wish you were here." He closed his eyes against the tears and swallowed again.

"I brought you flowers," he said softly as his voice trembled. "One for you and one for Wendy." He laid them beside the others at the bottom of the wall. They looked like an offering to some pagan god of spring.

"Yeah, I know." Tim smiled bitterly. "Flowers are for girls but you get one anyway."

He raised his eyes for the first time and looked at the walls. As was his ritual, he looked first at the wall to his left then at the wall to his right. In the first days, he'd tried to examine each picture individually but there were too many. Smiling faces stared back at him from either side. Proud parents posed with their children. Young men and women stood majestically in their dress uniforms. Friends laughed in each other's embraced. Lovers cuddled. Soldiers enjoyed the quiet moments of life in each other's camaraderie.

"So many," he whispered. Most of them were strangers. Officers didn't spend much free time with the enlisted. Some were at least familiar but few were friends. They were all missing; lost to Hyperion. He didn't know how the remaining crew carried on. They hadn't been given anymore time to grieve than he had but they had lost so many more of their friends and family. Any funerals had been years ago so all they had was this make-shift memorial hidden away in the bowels of the ship like a shameful family secret.

He turned away from their dead and focused on his own. Stark photos of scientists in white smocks formed a blockage against the crew's memorial. There were no notes or tokens mixed among the neat orderly rows. They weren't all dead but they had no way of knowing who had made it back since civilians weren't allowed on SeaQuest. Tim stood and moved closer to the wall, staring at the island of color. Here the pictures of Wendy and Miguel stood separate from the rest of the room.

"Hi, Wendy," he said, glancing at her pictures. She smiled back at him from a dozen poses. Hello, Tim, they told him. She knew that he wasn't really here to see her but she didn't mind. She didn't mind that her token display was far overshadowed by Miguel's memorial. After all, Miguel had been popular while she hadn't really had many friends here. Wendy understood that. Or so Tim told himself.

"Migs," whispered Tim as he finally let himself take in the pictures. He trailed a finger over a photo of the two of them standing side by side in their dress uniforms at some cousin's wedding.

Miguel was sitting at his station smiling for the publicist. Miguel was standing in the moonpool with water dripping down his neck and his hair curling up in ringlets. Brody and Miguel were arm wrestling. He and Miguel sat playing chess at his family's home. Lucas and Miguel built a sand castle at the beach. They stood with Miguel in all sorts of bars with all manner of beautiful women. They sat in a row on the beach with their noses smothered in white zinc.

"I had to pack your things to send to your family."

Miguel sat with his hair falling across his forehead as he tinkered with one of the WSKRS. Miguel smirked at a hand of cards. Tim reached out and moved a few of the pictures, unveiling a few more. These were not for public consumption.

"I kept a few of your things. I don't think your family will miss them. I hope you don't mind."

Miguel's face glistened as he stared up at the moon. Miguel slept peacefully, stretched out in a hammock. Miguel smiled lovingly down at an infant in his arms.

Tim covered the pictures one by one. He took long pauses in between to memorize each image. He'd tried keeping them in his room but it hurt too much. It was better to keep them in here where he had only the occasional agonizing peek. The last one slipped into its hiding place. He rested his forehead against the wall, taking deep breaths.

"Why?" he whispered, not for the first time. "Why was it you that didn't come back?"

The images only smiled. There were no answers here.

He turned away from the silent photos. Carefully, Tim removed the candle from his pocket and placed it gently on the floor. Kneeling before it, he lit the candle with a trembling hand. He took a deep breath and let his eyes fall shut as he recited the solemn words.

"Réquiem ætérnam dona eis Dómine; et lux perpétua lúceat eis. Requiéscant in pace. Amen."

He paused, opening his eyes and focusing on a formal portrait of Miguel.

"Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord."

He'd been there at the studio when they'd taken that photograph. He remembered Miguel rolling his eyes every time the photographer repositioned his hands.

"Let perpetual light shine upon him."

His hair fell around his face instead of pushed back against his head. He was looking directly into the camera giving you a clear view of his eyes. The flat facsimile of his rich brown eyes. Mere ink on paper could never capture the soul of the man that shined through them. It was just a picture; it could be nothing more. Nothing existed that could preserve the memory of Miguel the way he deserved.

"May he rest in peace. Amen."

Tim bowed his head, blowing out the candle with a soft puff. His tears fell in a gentle rain.

"I miss you."


	8. The Mirror Images of Grief and Hope

The Mirror-Images of Grief and Hope

This first broadcast hadn't made much of an impact. The flashy, red banner brandished across the screen with the words: "breaking news" was eye catching. He had paid enough attention to hear the first details of the story, in a bizarre string of events a submarine had been found in a cornfield in Iowa. Weird, he had thought and then turned back to his business.

The second broadcast shattered his world:

"_We bring you the first visual coverage of the submarine found in Riverside, Iowa earlier today. We apologize for the quality of these images but all non-military personal have been cleared from the field. As you can see, UEO helicopters are already on scene to begin airlifting the stranded sub. _

_Joining us via satellite is Dr. Carlos Walker, a doctor of maritime history at the State University of New York Maritime College. Dr. Walker, is there anything you can tell us about how this submarine managed to appear in a cornfield?"_

"_We're all as baffled as you are as to how a boat of this size could be this far inland. It defies explanation."_

"_Is there anything you can tell us about the submarine? If we don't know how it got there, do we know where it came from?"_

"_I'm hesitant to say. From the images that have been released by the media, this boat has an extremely unique design. To my knowledge, there has been only one submarine with both the size and the shapes that we're seeing, but I just don't see how it could possibly be the same boat."_

_The host laughed._

"_You can't possibly leave us hanging there, doctor. Just what is this ship?"_

"_The submarine was lost years ago with all hands on board. It can't possibly be the same."_

"_Wait, you mean…"_

"_The SeaQuest."_

His heart stopped and he felt a wave of vertigo at the name. The SeaQuest had disappeared ten years ago, leaving no trace and a thousand unanswered questions, taking his wife with it.

The third, fourth, fifth, and sixth broadcasts held more of the same. The only difference was that it became more and more certain that the stranded submarine was, in fact, the SeaQuest, despite silence from the UEO on the matter.

The seventh broadcast contained the word he was waiting for: survivors, but little other information. There were survivors being held in UEO custody. Not everyone who had disappeared with the SeaQuest was accounted for. They were compiling a list of the deceased but no bodies had been discovered. No more information would be released until the UEO could contact families.

He didn't watch any more television after that.

.oOo.

"Oh, my God, Greg, I came home as soon as I heard. I'm so sorry that I wasn't here earlier. "

Gregory closed his eyes as his wife wrapped her arms around him. Slowly, he shifted to return the embrace.

"I don't know what to do," he said, with a hoarse voice. "I don't know what to tell the kids. I don't know if I should contact Jenna's family?"

"The kids have probably already heard. If they haven't, I will tell them when they get home from the mall. "

"It's been ten years," he said, helplessly. "I waited for so long. I don't know what to think. I just…she was dead! I finally accepted that she was dead and we're happy now. But now she might not be dead and, I'm sorry, I really am, but I don't want her to be dead."

He went into the bedroom and shut the door. Reaching into his underwear drawer, he pulled out a small, blue jewelry box containing his wedding ring. Gregory hadn't looked at it since he had placed it in the box almost a year ago on the night before his proposal to Mary Anne. Flipping to box open, he starred at the worn, heavy gold band. Oh, Jenna.

The next few days were hell. Mary Anne was so incredibly sweet and supportive but she had to be scared out of her mind. She spent every moment away from his side cuddling their month-old son, James. When she thought he was asleep, she would snuggle up next to him in bed and weep. Deborah could not be pulled away from the photographs of her mom while Kenneth began having nightmares. Their house was always full of friends ineffectively trying to offer support but not knowing what to say. No one could discuss how their lives had changed because no one knew if anything had changed.

When the doorbell finally rang, it was almost a relief. He was alone in the house, having convinced Mary Anne to take James out while Deborah and Kenneth were visiting their maternal grandparents. He took a deep breath before opening the door, only to lose it again at the sight of the chaplain standing next to the Casualty Notification Officer.

"She's dead," he said, feeling a strange, chaotic rush of agony and relief.

"Gregory Tyler," began the officer. He removed his cap and held it in his hands. "I regret to inform you that your wife, Helmswoman Jenna Tyler, was not amongst the survivors recovered with the SeaQuest. "

"And her body? I heard that there had been no bodies found."

"That is correct, sir. I understand that the situation is highly unusual, but we have found everyone who can be found and your wife didn't make it."

"How did she die?"

"Helmswoman Tyler did her duty until the end. The details are all still classified, but I was told to tell you that she saved many lives. The United Earth Organization has lost a wonderful woman and we are very sorry for your loss."

"I lost her ten years ago." Hearing his voice crack, Gregory clinched his fists so that he would not cry in front of these strangers.

"And then you had hope. Don't belittle your grief now," said the chaplain. "Is there someone we should call for you?"

"No," said Gregory with a shake of his head. "My wife will be home soon and we will see to notifying everyone else."

"If you need anything, a support group has been set-up to help all of the SeaQuest families. We have counselors and other services waiting to help you." The officer handed over several sheets of paper that Greg grasped blindly. "You should also be aware that you may be receiving a few of Helmswoman Tyler's personal effects."

Gregory nodded. They didn't leave until Mary Anne returned but he could not have said what else they had discussed. His wife held him as he shook and tears fell down his face. He felt so guilty that she was here to help him. What kind of world did they live in when his wife had to help him through the grief of his wife's death? How could he still feel so much love and grief for Jenna when he had promised himself to Mary Anne?

"We need to go tell Jon and Diane," she said softly.

"And the kids," he said. "I have to tell them that their mother's not coming home. Again."

He slammed his fist down on the coffee table then ran his fingers through his hair.

"I hate this."

"I know."

She took him by the hand and led him from the house like a child. He let her, knowing that she was experiencing her own overwhelming emotions, despite never having actually met Jenna. The ride to Jenna's parents' house was silent. His children opened the door, knowing that their early arrival meant new news.

"She," started Greg, shaking his head, "she wasn't a survivor." It was easier to say what she wasn't than to say that Jenna was dead.

Deborah burst into tears but Kenneth just shrugged.

"She was already dead, so it doesn't matter much any way."

"Take that back!" shouted Deborah, as she hit her brother. "Take that back!"

"Stop, Deborah, stop," said Greg as he grabbed her hands. "You know he doesn't mean it."

She twisted in his arms, clinging to him as she sobbed.

"It's not fair," she kept saying. "It's not fair."

"You shouldn't have gotten your hopes up," spat Kenneth. He rushed into the house then slammed open the other door to flee into the back yard.

Through the open door, they could hear Jenna's parents talking from inside the house. Greg passed Deborah off to Mary Anne so that he could go meet them. Diane was already crying. By the time she reached the door, Jon was supporting most of her weight.

"Oh, mum," said Greg. "Go back in and sit down. There's nothing else we can do."

"I just wanted my baby back. I waited for so many years and then finally I thought… but no."

"I know."

"I know you do," she said and clutched his hand. Through the years, she had been extremely supportive of Greg, helping him through the pain and grief of losing Jenna. She took a deep breath to settle herself. "Now, someone should go see to my grandbaby. We'll be fine here."

Greg glanced quickly at Mary Anne who was comforting Deborah. She nodded. Jon gave him a gentle shove to his shoulder then began helping Diane back into their living room. Greg made his way through the familiar house, pausing to run his hands over the kitchen table where he had asked Jon for Jenna's hand in marriage so long ago. When he went into the backyard, Kenneth was sitting in a tree.

"I'm too old to climb up there," he told his son.

"I don't want company, anyway."

"I know you don't. " He leaned up against the trunk. A few minutes later, Kenneth jumped down.

"I feel stupid, you know, like I was duped. She was never going to come home and it was dumb to think that she might."

"It wasn't dumb, Kenneth. We all hoped for so many years and then to finally have news, it just seemed so promising."

"You're just saying that." Kenneth shoved his hands in his pockets with a scowl. "You have Mary Anne and James now so you didn't need her."

"I can't tell you that I know what I would have done if your mother had been one of the ones to come back. You're right that it was complicated. But your mother was the love of my life, and however much I love Mary Anne; it never took one iota away from my love for Jenna. I would give anything for her to be alive." Greg wiped his tears away again, uncomfortable at crying in front of his children.

Kenneth stared at him as though he had never before seen him.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I love you, dad."

"I love you, too. Now let's go in. You owe your sister an apology and the family needs to be together right now."

It was another six months before they received a box of her last belongings. They all cried again but this time it felt cleansing. Deborah lovingly unfolded Jenna's uniforms and caressed the precious few mementos. Kenneth laughed at the anecdotes that could be deciphered from the condolence letters written by her surviving crewmates; they were heavily blackened with censorship strips to protect any classified materials. Greg felt that last piece within him settle again and Mary Anne just smiled. Their family would be fine.

.oOo.

Alex Hargrove sat alone that night. His television loomed in the corner of the room, black and silent.

At work the next day, no one spoke to him but everyone watched him. Whispers followed in his wake. People were more interested in staring at his wedding band than meeting his eyes. When his boss brought him into his office and started mumbling things like, "Alexander, I understand how hard this must be for you"; he took the rest of the week off.

He spent his free time cleaning his house. Beth's pictures were dusted. He pulled out all of her clothes to launder then carefully sorted and shelved them the way she used to like it. For the first time in years, his closet looked full. He thought about making a trip to the grocery store to pick up some of her favorite foods but discarded the idea since he didn't know when the government would let her come home. Mostly, he sat and thought and fiddled with his wedding ring. People had always told him that he needed to let Beth go but he just couldn't and now he knew why. She was going to be on the list of survivors. His Beth was coming back to him.

When the military came to his door, there was just a single man and his driver with a black nondescript car. He felt a vicious moment of triumph, remembering when they had brought a whole crowd to tell him of Beth's "death".

"Are you Mr. Alexander Hargrove, once married to a Dr. Beth Hargrove?"

"I am Alex Hargrove, current husband of Beth Hargrove," he said with emphasis.

"Yes, sir," replied the officer with a brief smile. "I have good news. May I come in?"

"Please." He led the man into his house. They took a seat at the kitchen table in front of small glasses of chilled water.

"As you have guessed, Mr. Hargrove, your wife Beth is among the survivors that were recently discovered. She is in excellent physical health. Currently, she is being held with the other science staff from the SeaQuest until they have been debriefed and it is safe to release them to the public. We are here to take you to her but first you will have to sign a few confidentiality agreements. When we reach the complex, you and a number of other family members will be briefed on the survivors' condition and a few details of their experiences. We will also outline what your wife will and will not be allowed to discuss with you. Do you have any questions?"

He shook his head.

"I've dealt with enough military bureaucracy over the past ten years to know what to expect. Just give me the papers that I need to sign so we can leave."

As prepared as he was for moronic military over caution, he raised an eyebrow at the non-disclosure agreements. These were some pretty serious stuff, like conspiracy theory level stuff. Still, he had to sign them to see his wife so sign them he did.

"Do I need to prepare anything?"

"You won't be returning home for a few days but everything will be provided at the facility." The officer then stood by the door until Alex was ready to leave. The ride was long. With no watch and the tinted windows obscuring the sun, it was difficult for Alex to judge but it seemed to him that they had travelled for hours when he began to doze. When he awoke, they had finally stopped and he stepped out into crisp morning air.

He was in a courtyard surrounded by steep white stucco walls. An elaborate stone fountain held court in the center. Parked around it on the cobblestone were another six black nondescript cars from which similarly disheveled passengers were emerging. Armed guards stood along the perimeter of the courtyard and in pairs by both exits. A balding man dressed in a lab coat with expensive dress slacks stood beside the lead car with a distinguished but portly military officer.

"If everyone would gather around, we will simply go through a quick security check and then get on with the debriefing," said the balding man. A murmur of disquiet rustled through the crowd.

Alex hung back until he was last in line. He watched as the people in front of him first went through a metal detector, then an x-ray machine. By the time he passed through, the first ones had been physically patted down and scanned again for who knows what and were now being asked questions. He patiently put up with the treatment knowing that his wife waited at the end.

"They're clear," announced another military officer who was completely dressed in black. With this, the first officer disappeared, leaving them with the scientist. The remaining guards herded the group into a lecture hall.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. I am Dr. Everet Lynn. As you all know, the submarine SeaQuest was a duel venture between the military and various science organizations when she disappeared with all hands on deck ten years ago. Now that SeaQuest has been found again, it has been reassigned as solely a military vessel. As such, your loved ones are no longer needed aboard SeaQuest, therefore they will be slowly released back to civilian life as soon as it is safe to do so. Given that many of you have long since moved on with your lives, we recognize that their new civilian life may not include you. You have no legal obligations to any of the survivors. You may back out of meeting with your loved ones or participating in our arrangements at any time. Regardless of which path you choose, you will not be able to discuss anything you learn here today.

"There are a few curious events surrounding the recovery of the SeaQuest and her crew. We have found that for the members of SeaQuest, virtually no time has passed since the SeaQuest disappeared. No one we have questioned knows what happened. They do not know where they were. They do not know what they did. Understandably, this is very traumatic for them. We are currently providing counseling for the members of the science staff. Physically, your loved one will look exactly the same as they did ten years ago. They are under strict medical monitoring to see if their ordeal will have any long term effects, but there may be need for follow-up screenings. When it is time for them to be released, there will be several security measures in place to ensure their anonymity.

"Now I know this is a lot to absorb. Take a minute to think through the implications then we will let you see your loved ones, if you so desire."

For Alex, there was no question of him wanting to see Beth, but he was struck with a sudden fear that Beth might not want to see him. He had gained weight during the years that she had been gone. He was graying at the temples. The idea, that she could be the same perfect, pristine Beth that he'd lost when he'd been depreciating, was daunting. He had never quite understood how Beth could have loved him as much as she had, so what did he have to offer her now? But at least he would have the chance to see her and hear her voice again before she asked him to leave.

A few people approached Dr. Lynn and were soon escorted from the room. The rest were led through narrow hallways until they reached a series of doors. Alex was pointed towards the third door from the left. With trepidation, he opened the door.

Inside sat Beth. She was perched on the edge of a metal stool with her elbows resting on the table. Her hair was a bit stringy and there were bags under her eyes. Her skin was pale beneath the bright florescent lights of the office. Alex had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. Then her expression changed and she was staring at him with a look of horror.

"They told me it had been ten years; I didn't believe them. It was just so impossible and their evidence so easy to hoax, but you, I almost didn't recognize you. Oh my god, I've lost a decade of my life."

"I knew that I would be a disappointment." He began to weep. "I waited. I waited for you. I can't believe you came back. I'm so glad you came back even though you don't want me."

Beth wrapped her frail arms around his shoulders. He startled, surprised that she could bring herself to touch him.

"I'm so sorry, Alex. I didn't mean to leave you for so long. My poor, precious Alex, I could never be disappointed in you."

He looked up at her and smiled tentatively, worried that she was just placating him.

"I love you," he said with every fiber of his being, because even if she never managed to love him back again, it was important to him that she knew.

"It doesn't bother you that I'm now fifteen years younger than you?" She pulled at her sweater nervously.

"You're perfect," he said with conviction. "I will always love you. Do you…do you think you could get used to the new me?"

"I love everything about you that matters and I'll love the new things about you, too."

"Okay," said Alex, willing to take her at her word. "I'm so glad you're home; everything's going to be perfect."

"We still have a lot of things to work out, sweetheart. If I've missed ten years, I'm going to have to make so many adjustments."

"That's okay," he said. "As long as we're together, we can handle everything else."

She still looked serious but Alex could not help smiling.

"I don't know when they're going to let us go free. They may never let us go free. We're freaks of science and a horrible security risk. Are you willing to wait?"

Alex laughed.

"Beth, I'm good at waiting."

"Yeah," she smiled at him with tears in her eyes, "I guess you are."

.oOo.

"Deshawn?" asked Elia, as she returned home from shopping. She found him starring at the blank television screen.

"They found the SeaQuest. Kimberly might be alive."

"Oh," she said, and sat heavily on the couch. "That's just… I mean… wow…it's just…"

"Yeah," he said. "I know." He shook his head. "Alia keeps asking what's wrong and I don't know where to start. We don't even know anything and I can't think."

"What are we going to do?"

"Nothing. This changes nothing." He got up and left the room.

The next few days passed in a series of awkward silences. When his wife tried to question him about his first wife, he ignored her or changed the subject. Co-workers at work were afraid to approach him. Elia's friends kept the phone ringing as they tried to find out news or comfort Elia or do whatever women did when one of them was out of sorts.

Deshawn just felt numb. Losing Kimberly had been the most difficult thing he had ever been through. There were no answers, just his life being senselessly ripped apart. In some ways, learning that she was alive felt the same way. He had healed. He thought of her fondly and sadly but she wasn't a gaping hole in his life the way she had been right after the disappearance. Meeting Elia, who was the brightest ray of sunshine he had ever met, was the last step to putting Kimberly behind him. And now Kimberly was back threatening his life with Elia. Part of him was angry at her for not staying properly dead and what kind of a horrible of a person did that make him? So he avoided Elia, who made him feel guilty, and any mention of Kimberly or SeaQuest and put his focus on his daughter, Alia.

When a Commander and a Lieutenant appeared in full uniform on his front doorstep, Deshawn was tempted to slam the door on them. Instead, he invited them into his home, telling Elia to take Alia outside to play.

"Your wife, Petty Officer Kimberly Mason, was one of the crewmembers to be recovered with the SeaQuest. "

"Ex-wife," he said, rubbing his wedding band.

"The United Earth Organization has decided to regard the marital status of all survivors as a legal gray area. Marriages that occurred after the parties were declared deceased are, of course, still recognized; however, your marriage to Petty Officer Mason is also still legal. Technically both are your wives."

"So now I'm a bigamist," he said sarcastically. "Great."

"Not at all, Mr. Mason. We are simply in a very unusual legal position. Should you choose to remain with your current wife, you will not need to divorce Petty Officer Mason. There will be a few simple forms to fill out either way. You have up to two years to make your decision."

"Why so long?"

"SeaQuests capabilities are necessary for the protection of world freedoms. Unfortunately, only her current crew has the talent and training to harness those capabilities. It will be another year to six months before the situation stabilizes enough that any of the crew can be released on long term leave. As it stands, their current status is highly classified and it will be several months before you or anyone else can even contact a member of the SeaQuest crew. They are being kept with minimum contact and exposure to the current world climate for their own protection."

"Typical. They get to fight for our freedom but get none for themselves. Is it even safe for her to fight? What happened to them? How are they coping?"

"I'm afraid that all information pertaining to SeaQuest is classified. We are only cleared to release the living status of the crewmembers. Rest assured, that you will be told more before you are reintroduced to your wife."

"Six months to a year from now."

"I'm sorry, sir. I wish I had better news. You can write to her." He placed a business card on the table. "It will be screened; of course, as will any of her replies, but anything sent to this address will eventually reach SeaQuest."

"Thank you, so much," he said sarcastically. "I think, perhaps, it is time for you to leave."

"One last thing," said the Lieutenant. "If you need anything, a support group has been set-up to help all of the SeaQuest families. We have counselors and other services waiting to help you." He handed over several sheets of paper.

"Well," asked Elia. She had come back inside when she heard the car leave. Deshawn was still standing in the middle of the living room.

"Kim's alive."

"Okay, are we going to discuss what this means now?"

"There's nothing to discuss."

"The hell there's not!" she shouted. "I have waited patiently for you because I know this whole situation is awful, but now you need to man up. You can't just ignore this."

"Mommy?" asked Alia, uncertainly from the doorway.

"We'll discuss this later, Deshawn, but we are discussing this."

She picked up her daughter and left the room. Deshawn sat on the couch with his head in his hands. The rest of the night passed in a frosty silence. It wasn't until late that night when they were lying in bed starring at the ceiling that Elia finally spoke to him.

"Why won't you talk to me?"

Deshawn sighed, knowing that he could not avoid it any longer.

"I don't know what to say."

"You worry me, sometimes." She traced the scar on his wrist from where he punched a wall after the death of Alia's baby sister. Deshawn took her meaning: he didn't deal the best with grief or complex emotion.

"I know. I don't mean to be like this."

"I'm just so afraid that I'm going to lose you," admitted Elia.

Deshawn rolled over in bed and took her hand.

"You're not going to lose me. We have been dating for seven years. Our daughter is five years old. We've been married for three years. This is our life; Kimberly doesn't have a place here anymore. "

"But she's alive and you loved her so much. She was practically all you talked about when we first met." She wiped tears from her eyes.

"But I mourned her and let her go. I haven't seen her in ten years; she's a stranger. I don't want to go back to the past. I don't want to learn to love her again. I don't care what the UEO says, we're not married any more; I'm married to you. I love you. I'll contact a lawyer to make sure that Kimberly gets everything she would have gotten if we'd divorced but that's it."

"God, I just feel so bad for her and so guilty. She goes off to war and suffers who knows what kinds of horrors and I steal her man. I know I'm a horrible person because I should give you back to her but I can't. I love you."

"Elia, Elia." He held her close and gently rubbed her back. "You're not a horrible person. No one could have imagined this situation and I don't know how to deal with it but I'm not giving up you or Alia."

"Will you at least contact Kimberly?"

"I don't really see the point, other than to inform her of the results from the lawyer." Deshawn just didn't think it would be fair on anyone to maintain contact with Kimberly.

"I can't imagine what she must be going through right now. You were her best friend and she was yours. I don't want you to punish her or to regret how you handled this."

"You're a brave, brave woman, Mrs. Mason, and you're right, but would it really be fair to you or to her?"

Elia leaned over and kissed him gently.

"I'm not going to be jealous as long as you are open with me. We can even go see her together if you would prefer."

"They're not letting me see her," admitted Deshawn. "She's still in the service, on duty no less."

"Those heartless bastards! She's been missing for ten years. They should let her go home and be reunited with her family." She clutched him tight. "I am so glad you decided against reenlisting."

"It's not really surprising; we're not people to the UEO and they're desperate."

"It's still wrong. How am I supposed to get you to reconnect with Kimberly when she's half a world away?"

"We can write letters but they'll be delayed and screened and censored."

"Bastards," she muttered again. "All right, so the first thing to do is to write a letter letting Kimberly know that she's still important to you but that you've remarried and have a family. Do you think you can do that?"

Deshawn smiled at his wife.

"I don't think I have a choice."

"You don't," replied Elia, with a smile. Deshawn was reminded of all the reasons he had married the woman in the first place. "I'm not going to let you abandon the poor woman, but you're mine now. She'll just have to be family."

"I love you," said Deshawn.

"I know."

"No, I'm serious. This whole situation has been twisting inside me. Nothing I did was going to be the right thing, but you just laid everything out as pretty as can be. You make me think that maybe things can work. I love you."

"I love you, too, baby. Now go to sleep."

And Deshawn did, thankful that he had such a wonderful family.

.oOo.

He met the other two men as usual at the Remembrance Memorial. Like him, each was dressed in immaculate navy blue suits. He shook their hands, murmuring quiet greetings. Everything was the same as last year, but looking into their eyes, he knew that everything had changed. No one spoke as they placed their flowers on the granite steps. The very thing that had united them now made them different. He wouldn't be returning next year.


End file.
